


Mama, I Just Killed A Man

by visceraboy



Category: Moral Orel
Genre: Character Death, Choking, Death, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20410633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visceraboy/pseuds/visceraboy
Summary: "When did Orel wrap his hands around Clay's throat?"





	Mama, I Just Killed A Man

"Kissing boys makes you go to Hell," Clay had told Orel when he was no older than seven years old. Clay Puppington was nothing if not a hypocrite, and Orel now knew this very well. 

Orel, now thirteen, thought back to that moment as Clay stood over him with the wooden paddle that Orel himself had made only a year ago. He yelled out slurred questions about the boy Orel had kissed; Orel was too panicked to remember his name, just that he had eyes like the Lord's earth and a voice that sounded like angels singing. 

The only reason his father was now tearing at his clothes and striking him was because other people saw him kiss the boy. 

It was only about his image.

Pain wracked Orel's body, and boiled into rage within the pit of his stomach. He choked down tears and, without thinking, shot his hand between the paddle and his red skin.

The bones breaking was audible.

"Shit-" Clay's hazed eyes suddenly grew focused. "Orel, what did you do that for!?" He shouted at the boy as he looked at his hand in terror and rage. 

Orel's eyes boiled over as he finally moved to defend himself. His knee hit Clay in between the legs, causing the older man to yelp in pain, and giving Orel the chance to shove him away. The action caused his hand to sear in pain, and a new flood of tears to come out as he groaned. Clay landed pathetically on his back, hurting his spine and making him hiss out a curse. Orel snatched the discarded paddle and jumped at the opportunity, not thinking of anything else besides the pain in his hand and knee as he began to wallop his father.

He barely registered the words Clay spoke, and sure as the sky was blue didn't respond, but he didn't respond. He watched bruises begin to form and feel the snapped bones in his hand shift.

As his arm began to hurt, he dropped the paddle, and he breathed deep and sharp. Clay's hands rested in front of his face, and he was choking on his own breath. 

When did Orel wrap his hands around Clay's throat?

He didn't know.

His hand hurt. Everything simultaneously hurt and was numb at the same time.

Clay was choking, desperately clawing, finally regretting ever laying a hand in his son.

Orel kept pressing harder. It hurt. It hurt so bad, his broken hands bones kept shifting, the fact that somewhere under the numbness and rage and pain, he knew he was trying to kill someone, the fact he had thought for so long that being beaten on a daily basis was okay. It all hurt. 

He only realized Clay had died when he felt his throat buckle underneath him.

He let go, and stared. He didn't feel anything. He stood, and fixed his pajamas, still looking at the corpse that was once his dad. Bruises and blood littered his flesh.

Orel sat down and boiled over. This was the worst of sins, wasn't it? This broke two of the ten commandments. He couldn't look away. What would his mom think? His little brothers? Another sob ripped through his young body as he thought of Stephanie and Danielle. He wailed when he thought of God. 

He sat there and cried for a few minutes more, then did the only thing he knew to do; pray.

"Dear God," he started with a shaking voice. "I know this is bad, I know, I'm so sorry," 

His mouth felt dry.

"I'm not gonna go to Heaven now," he choked out between his tears. "But I hope you can forgive me, God. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't feel your love anymore." He felt at a loss for words, then swallowed thickly.

"Heavenly Father, I come to you in prayer asking for forgiveness of my sins." He spoke with a shaking voice, turning his eyes upwards.

"I confess that I have been led astray by my own hatred. Oh, Lord, please cleanse my soul of this filth, and let me be reborn anew." Tears no longer fell.

He looks down and sniffs.

"... Thank you for listening, God. Amen."

**Author's Note:**

> I thought too hard about a joke i made then wrote this


End file.
